


Blue Sky in His Eye

by littleconnections



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Emotional Constipation, M/M, Stardew Valley AU, a surprising amount of swearing considering it's a Stardew Valley AU, at least that's the vibe we're going for, past Sam/EJ and Tyson/EJ
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 00:54:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18021758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleconnections/pseuds/littleconnections
Summary: Not a lot happens in the valley and that's the way Erik Johnson, sixth generation Johnson of the Johnson Farm, likes it.He definitely doesn't like it when a city kid takes over the old MacKinnon Farm and apparently thinks he can just run the place. No matter how good his ass is.





	Blue Sky in His Eye

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [dexsnursey (nerdy_farm_girl)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdy_farm_girl/pseuds/dexsnursey) in the [wesmashing](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/wesmashing) collection. 



> Did I write this whole thing exclusively while listening to Southeastern by Jason Isbell or having hockey on in the background? Yes. 
> 
> Thank you as always to Suzanne for being my biggest fan and thanks to josthockeythings for the beta. 
> 
> This is a Stardew Valley AU in the sense that I tried to capture the vibe and borrowed some of the game mechanics and settings. No Avs have been cast as particular Stardew Valley characters. Also I'm a city kid so Stardew Valley is about as far as my farming knowledge stretches.
> 
> If you found this through googling yourself or someone you know, please save us the embarrassment and don't read this. Thank you.

Erik Johnson is the current owner of the Johnson Farm, a sixth generation Johnson, directly descended from the Johnsons who were among the first to settle in the Valley. He’s lived here all his life and he plans to live here for the rest of live. He knows what he’s doing, with his farm and with his life.

The life in the valley has a certain rhythm to it that Erik enjoys. The seasons are clear, moving into one another so smoothly you always know what crops to plant and what festivals are coming up. He likes the people here in the valley, mostly, and he likes the work he does on the farm with the crops and the horses.

What he does not like, is change. And the news that they finally figured out who the new owner of the old MacKinnon farm is…well that is definitely something that’s going to mean change.

“You don’t know who it is?” Erik squints at Gabe, who is leaning on the fence to the paddock, looking blond and carelessly beautiful like he always does.

Gabe shrugs. “I think Mayor Sakic said it went to his grandson, who lives in the city somewhere. Don’t know what he’s gonna do with it.”

“Hmm.” Erik says. You can’t trust people who live in the city. They tended to have a short-term view of things, which probably meant that the land was going to be sold and turned into housing units or a Joja Mart expansion in no time and another piece of the valley’s soul will be lost.

“Yeah maybe,” Gabe says. “Nothing we can do about it in that case.”

“Well I hate him.” Erik finishes brushing Biz Nasty, and pats him on the nose, then looks deep into his eye. “Don’t even think about biting Splashy Kisses when I put you back there. I have enough shit to do without you two fighting.”

Biz Nasty seems severely unimpressed by Erik’s statement but there isn’t really anything more he can do.

 

For a while, nothing happens to the old MacKinnon farm. Erik is keeping an eye on it, of course, and he’s ready to get involved if it looks like they’re going to flatten the whole thing and start pouring concrete. He doesn’t exactly know what he’ll do yet, but some plans have been made, minor acts of sabotage prepared.

That’s not what happens though. At first nothing at all happens, the farm stays as rundown and broken as it has been for the last years, trees and grass and bits of rock and wood spread over the property. Poking around almost makes Erik sad, because it is a beautiful piece of land and it would produce great crops. There are bits where he can see where the animals used to graze and it makes him sad to remember it, as something that is gone now and that will soon disappear completely.

But it’s not like Erik has time to hang around the MacKinnon farm all day. He has his own farm to run, crops to take care of, animals to feed, a store to run, relationships to maintain. Sammy helps out with the crops and the animals sometimes, but there’s still a lot to do so Erik’s poking around is limited to the occasional evening stroll and bothering Tyson at the Saloon to tell him if he’s heard anything about what’s going to happen yet.

“Fuck off, Erik,” Tyson says when he gives him his beer. “You’ll figure out about MacKinnon like the rest of us: when something happens, the news will spread like wildfire.”

“Yeah, cause you’ll tell me,” Erik says and takes his beer.

That is not, in fact, what happens.

 

It’s one of those soft spring evenings. The sun has gone down but it’s not dark yet, the sky slowly darkening to a deep, dusky blue. Erik wanders into MacKinnon Farm and then stops short.

It looks different. There’s light coming from the cabin and some of the weeds have been cleared. Actually, a lot of the weeds have been cleared and some of the ground has been tilled. It’s sort of uneven, like Erik’s was when he was still learning, and he walks up to it, steps quiet on the dusty ground. There are seeds in the ground, neatly spaced, and they’ve been watered too. Probably parsnips, Erik thinks as he squats down to examine it, fingers digging into the soft, rich earth.

“Who the hell are you?”

Erik jumps up and turns and there’s someone standing on the porch of the old cabin. It’s a dude, tall, though not as tall as Erik. The broad shoulders stretch out a white t-shirt, long legs tucked into scuffed jeans. He’s wearing boots and there’s a dog sitting beside him, a big, friendly looking one.

“I’m Erik,” Erik says. “Johnson. I run the Johnson Farm, over that way. Who the hell are you?”

“Nathan,” he jumps down from the porch and comes closer. He has blond hair, a broad face and a fine, straight nose. “MacKinnon. And this is my farm.”

“You’re old MacKinnon’s grandson?”

“Yes,” Nathan crosses his arms. 

“And what,” Erik says, “you thought you could just come here from the big city and take over a farm? Plant some crops, run around a little, and when you get tired of it, you’ll sell the land to the Joja Mart people?”

“Fuck you,” Nathan says. “You don’t know me.”

“I know you have no idea what you’re doing,” Erik gestures at the ground. “You’re late with the planting.”

“I’ll be fine,” Nathan says.

“You need to get a scarecrow or the crows will eat the seeds before you grow anything.”

“You know what, why don’t you fuck off?”

Erik can’t see Nathan’s face properly, lit from behind by the porch lights, but he sounds pissed off and Erik is sharply delighted by the pushback. For a moment they stand there in the half-light and it feels like a faceoff. Erik feels himself grin, sees the way Nathan tries to make himself taller and he brushes his hand off against his pants, before raising it in salute.

“Sure,” he says. “You know where to find me if you need some advice.”

There’s a choked off noise of anger behind him and Erik saunters off, air soft, and the rustling of insects in the night all around him. 

 

The composure Erik felt in that conversation doesn’t last at all. What the hell is MacKinnon thinking? He can just run a farm? Thinking he knows what it takes to run a farm when he’s probably never done a day of hard work in his life and wouldn’t know broccoli from cauliflower if it wasn’t labeled at the grocery store. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Tyson says, leaning across the bar to refill Erik’s beer. “I liked him. Very earnest.”

“Hmmmm,” Erik says and takes a big swing.

“Have you met him yet?” Tyson asks.

“No.” MacKinnon had apparently arrived a couple of days ago and was making his way through meeting everyone in town, but Erik didn’t feel like talking about his own meeting. “Also fuck you, you said you’d tell me if you knew anything.”

“Well I met him today, and I’m telling you now.” Tyson rolls his eyes and then goes off to serve Mikko. Erik stares into his beer, then shrugs and drains it. He should probably get home anyway, there’s going to be more work tomorrow.

 

The whole ‘Nathan MacKinnon comes to town and takes over Old MacKinnon’s farm’ thing has apparently reached critical mass because after that Erik just cannot get fucking away from it. Colin him tells him, when he comes to buy some apricots. Sam talks about him while they’re taking out the horses. Mikko offers his opinion when Erik comes to in to sell some coffee beans.

“He was very serious and wanted to know all about the seeds,” Mikko says idly, holding Erik’s pay in his hand, making sure Erik can’t just stop listening and leave. “It’s nice that he came in here to get things instead of going to the Joja Mart.”

“Sure,” Erik says. “Probably hasn’t found it yet.”

Mikko makes a disappointed face at him and hands him the money.

“I don’t know why you’re so negative,” he says.

“A lifetime of disappointment,” Erik tells him  as he takes the money and flees.

 

For all that everyone is talking about Nathan MacKinnon, Erik doesn’t actually see him again for a while. He doesn’t go back to the farm either, mostly because he doesn’t know how to explain himself if MacKinnon catches him there again. So he just hears stories from everyone and does his job until a few days later, Nathan shows up at the Johnson Farm.

Erik is busy brushing Splashy Kisses’ coat when he notices him standing on the other side of the paddock fence, idly looking around. He’s wearing jeans again, dirt on his boots and there’s no dog with him this time but that’s definitely Nathan MacKinnon, blond and burly.

“Oh,” Erik says. “What are you doing here?”

Nathan lifts one shoulder. “I’m still figuring out the town.”

“Welcome,” Erik spreads his arms, “to Johnson Farm. Please stay on your side of the fence.”

A frown line forms between Nathan’s eyebrows, shoulders hunching a little. For a moment they just look at each other, Erik on the inside of his paddock, Nathan on the outside. Separate worlds, Erik thinks.

“I brought you something,” Nathan says abruptly, stepping up to the fence and holding up a little bowl. “Here.”

Erik steps up and takes it. Inside there are white, long root vegetables, still covered with a little dirt. He looks at them, then up at Nathan.

“Parsnips.”

“First harvest,” Nathan says. “Since you were so critical.”

“Kinda small,” Erik says and grins.

A smile lifts the corner of Nathan mouth, “I’ll get better.”

“I doubt it,” Erik says. “Thanks Nathan.”

“Nate.”

Erik nods. “Nate. Thanks.”

There’s a full-blown grin on Nate’s face now, sharp and combative. He’s hot like that, Erik notes, looking at him like he wants to prove something. Doesn’t hurt that his shoulders stretch his shirt, the muscles of his arms defined in his sleeves. It’s easy to keep watching him as Erik goes back to brushing Splashy Kisses, watching as Nate saunters along the path, back towards his home. There’s a gust of wind blowing through the trees, rustling them and a swirl of leaves falls all around Nate’s broad back, his long-legged stride.

Good ass, Erik decides.

 

It’s not like that exchange changes Erik’s opinion on Nate. He might be hot, but he’s still a city boy who doesn’t know the first thing about running a farm and the fact that everyone in town seems to be charmed by his earnest and clumsy attempts in no way has Erik fooled. Nate isn’t going to be able to turn a profit, and he’s going to get frustrated, tired of turning over every coin and weighing the decision of what he needs on the farm against each other, and he’s going to give up and go back to a cushy job in the city. That’s just the way of the world.

So maybe Erik is a little surprised when Nate shows up at the store, stomping up the counter. He still looks good, blue flannel tucked into his pants and he crosses his arms as he looks around the store.

“Can I buy a chicken from you?”

“Not if you don’t have a chicken coop, you can’t,” Erik says. “I don’t sell chickens to people who won’t take care of them properly.”

Nate frowns at him. “I have a chicken coop.”

“Oh yeah?” Erik is skeptical. “A shitty old thing left over from your grandpa? Because you’re not putting any of my chickens in that.”

“No,” Nate looks impatient. “I got Gabe to build me a new one. Look, will you sell me a chicken or not?”

“I don’t really feel like it,” Erik says, “but I guess I have to stay in business. Which you probably don’t understand, since it looks like you have money to throw around.”

Nate sneers. “You don’t really know anything about me.”

“I also don’t want to,” Erik says. “Come on, let’s look at the chickens and you can pick one.”

The chickens are clucking and pecking at the ground in their enclosure. Nate leans on the fence as he looks at them in concentration. Erik watches him for a moment, the clear blue of his eyes and the sharp line of his nose, then steps up beside him.

“Those two over there would be good starters,” he says. “They’re old enough to lay eggs but still young, so you’ll get a lot out of them. If you have an incubator you can hatch their eggs to increase your flock. You have to feed them every day and clean the coop, of course, and they like it if you pet them. Fence off the bit where they’re going to run around in and grow some grass there, then they’ll mostly take care of themselves on nice days.”

“Okay.” Nate licks his lips and nods. “Okay I’ll take them both.”

“I’ll bring them by later,” Erik says, “and take a look at that chicken coop. What do you want to name them?”

“Chili,” Nate responds instantly. “And Beans.”

Erik laughs out loud, truly, honestly amused.

“Alright,” he says. “That’s good.”

Nate grins at him and Erik hadn’t really been worried about the chickens but he’s less worried now. Someone who names his chickens Chili and Beans is probably going to take good care of them.

 

Every season has its festivals, and the end of spring means the Flower Dance festival is coming up. It isn’t Erik’s favorite festival but it’s still good fun. Everyone gets dressed up and Erik can get tipsy on the little glasses of champagne provided by whoever organizes these things. The mayor probably.

He’s three glasses deep, spring sun warm enough overhead that he’s unbuttoned the collar and rolled up the sleeves of his nice shirt. No tie, he’s not going to dig that out for anything short of a wedding.  

Erik picks up another glass of champagne and wanders around the open field. He chats with Tyson and with Gabe. Drops in on the three musketeers, thick as thieves and twice as annoying. Big Z is already dancing with his daughter, twirling around so that her little dress spins, when Erik wanders over to Nate. His glass is empty again and he feels good, bubbly and warm, and Nate looks good in nice pants and a dress shirt.

“Hi Nate.”

“Hi,” Nate smiles at him, open and loose. There’s a glass of champagne held loosely in his hand and his head is sort of tilted, looking at Erik consideringly.

“Enjoying the festival? Or doesn’t hold up against the big city parties you’ve been to?”

Nate laughs. “I think my big city life was a lot different that you’re imagining.”

“Yeah?” Erik leans in, grins.

“Oh yeah,” Nate says. “Shitty job, small apartment, most of my friends had moved away. Nothing to stick around for there.”

“Oh yeah,” Erik says. “The company out here is definitely way better.”

“Sure,” now it’s Nate’s turn to grin. “I like Tyson a lot.”

That makes Erik laugh, head tilted back and everything is loose enough and bright enough and soft enough that he sets down his glass and says: “Come dance with me.”

“Oh no,” Nate shakes his head. “I don’t dance.”

“Suit yourself,” Erik shrugs, then raises his voice, “Hey Sammy! Come dance with me!”

Sam does, lets Erik twirl him over the lawn and theatrically dip him. Erik smacks a kiss onto his mouth when the song ends. Occasionally hooking up in the hayloft gets him that much, he thinks.

Afterwards he waltzes dramatically with Gabe, who only goes along with it because it makes Mel laugh so hard she has tears streaming down her face.

By the time Erik makes his way back over to Nate, the sun is going down and there’s a breeze picking up, whirling flowers petals all around them. It’s some fucking romantic bullshit but Erik still walks over to Nate and holds out one of the flowers he picked off one of the displays. He holds it out with a grin.

“Figured you should have something, since you missed out on the fucking point of the festival.”

Nate stares the flower for a moment, then takes it, holds it, unsure, and then tucks it behind his ear. It’s a small white blossom, right by his eye and Erik smiles when he sees it. It looks silly, Nate’s broad face and beard and the delicate flower but Erik can appreciate the contrast and someone who can take a joke.

Nate holds out the bottle of champagne he’s somehow sequestered for himself and Erik takes a good swing. It’s almost empty.

“You drink this by yourself?” he asks.

“Tyson and Mikko helped me kill it,” Nate says and they stand there together under the darkening sky drinking the rest as people begin making their way home. Erik flicks the flower before he leaves, just gently to make sure none of the petals fall off.

“Good look for you Nate, I think you should stick with it.”

Nate rolls his eyes but his smiling and Erik smiles too, bouncing on his feet almost all the way home. 

 

Spring turns into summer and Friday nights mean hanging out at the Saloon, as is tradition for almost everyone in town. Erik has taken up his usual position at the end of the bar, perfect for chatting with Tyson when he’s not working and for heckling Kerf, Josty and JT as they embarrass themselves at pool. It’s a good spot and Erik plans on working his way through a couple of pints and then showing the kids how its down before going home to bed, just like every Friday night.

He’s about halfway through his first beer, mocking Tyson for only putting desserts and salad on the menu today, when Nate comes in.

“Nate!” Tyson cheers and leans across the bar to exchange back slaps, like they’re best friends now or something. Nate is smiling, loose and easy, and he takes a beer and wanders over to the pool table, where he exchanges hugs and back slaps with the three idiots already in position. Erik watches for a moment, irritated with how the fawn over him, rushing to set up a new game so he can join in, then he determinedly turns his back on them. He’s still not done with making fun of Tyson.

Behind him there’s a loud whoop and before he can decide not to Erik has turned around again. Nate apparently made some sort of amazing shot, still bent over the table with his back to Erik. His ass looks amazing, jeans tighter than usual so they emphasize the size of his thighs.

Erik frowns and turns back to the bar, finishes his beer and signals for another. Tyson brings it to him, looking interestedly over at the pool table.

“Nate Dogg’s pretty good, huh?”

Erik stares at him, then cackles. “Nate Dogg? _Nate Dogg_??? Did he ask you to call him that?”

“Sure,” Tyson doesn’t even have the grace to look embarrassed. “Nate Dogg and T-Beauty are the life of this party and you know it.” He looks over Erik’s shoulder. “Oh _sweet_.”

And then of course, of course Erik has to look and he sees Nate take another shot, eyes narrowed in concentration. It’s a beauty of a shot, sinks one of balls and when Nate looks up he meets Erik’s eyes and smirks.

So Erik keeps watching. It is part of his Friday night tradition after all, and he does heckle the three musketeers as they fail to keep up with Nate in any way. He also watches Nate though, the concentration on his face as he lines up his shots, the little whooping fist pumps he does after a particularly nice one, the way he jokes and laughs. Sometimes Nate will catch Erik’s eye and each time he’ll grin at him, a narrow-eyed thing, teeth bared and Erik will smirk back, in a way he knows is infuriating.  

It also doesn’t hurt that Nate spends a lot of time bent over the table. His jeans are really tight.

A dishrag hits Erik in the side of the face and when he turns Tyson is smirking at him.

“To wipe up all the drool.”

Erik does not dignify that with an answer, just flings the rag back at Tyson’s face then gets up from his seat.

“Hey Nate,” he calls. “Let’s play.”

The current game is nowhere near done but Nate looks at him consideringly then shrugs.

“Hey! We weren’t—” Josty starts but Erik just waves a hand at him as he finishes the rest of his beer before strolling over.

“Buzz off, twerps,” he says. “I’m looking for some real competition tonight.”

They roll their eyes at him but make their way over to the jukebox, start fiddling with it. The noise of it blends in with the cacophony of the bar. Nate is smirking already, queue resting in his hand, and Erik snatches up one of the discarded queues and gestures at the table with it.

“You break.”

Erik sinks the first ball, a solid, and he grins up at Nate, dagger sharp.

Nate gets two on his next turn.

It gets competitive after that. The sounds of the rest of the Saloon, the chatter of conversation, the dings of the arcade, the songs on the jukebox or the radio, everything fades into the background as Nate and Erik play. It’s the game that requires focus but it’s also Nate, combative and quick, lining up shot after shot and always looking to make sure Erik is watching. They brush against each other around the table, the bare skin of their arms touching as they stand far closer than is technically necessary.

Nate wins the game and the smile he levels at Erik is nothing short of triumphant.

“Guess you’re not as good at this as you thought, huh?”

Erik lets out a huff. “Oh fuck you, we’re playing another. Tyson!” He raises his voice towards the bar. “Can you get me a beer?”

They play another round and another. Erik wins both of those, grins at Nate’s scowling face. Around them the Saloon empties, though Erik doesn’t pay attention. He feels lit up, burning, focused, and though it’s much later than he’d usually stay he agrees to another game.

Nate wins that win one and then Tyson is standing beside the pool table, hands on his hips. When Erik looks around he notices they’re the last people left, most glasses already picked up and the music turned down low.

“I’m kicking you out,” Tyson says, shooing them towards the door with both hands.

“Tyson,” Erik gasps and puts a hand over his heart, “after all them times we’ve hooked up after closing. I can’t believe you.”

“Well, _we’re_ definitely not hooking anymore,” Tyson says. “And I fucking want to go to bed. So leave.”

Erik puts up his hands in defeat, replaces the pool queue and strides out of the saloon. Behind him, Nate calls out a goodbye to Tyson and the follows along behind him, almost too close.

The summer air around them is still warm, though it’s lost the blistering heat of the day. It’s soft against the skin, and Erik breathes it in. Almost all lights are out and when he tilts his head back he can see the stars in the sky above him, little bright spots in the velvety darkness.

Nate steps up beside Erik, almost close enough to touch. The tension between them feels less out here, but it’s still there. Nate meets his gaze when Erik turns to look at him, open, challenging. Erik looks and looks and then Nate steps past him, body brushing against him, and starts to walk towards home.

Erik follows. Nate doesn’t ask what he’s doing, just keeps walking and Erik watches him, the sound of the cicadas filling his ears. It’s like the air gets heavier as they walk, the crunching sound of gravel under his feet. Nate is a bright spot in front of him, the white of his shirt stretched over his shoulders.

It’s a short walk to the MacKinnon Farm and then they’re there, on the porch of Nate’s house. It’s been a while since Erik has been there and he’s almost surprised at how much it’s changed. Erik takes a moment to look around from the porch while Nate gets the door open. There’s a row of fruit trees, rows and rows of corn. The chicken coop looks good, though no chickens are around right now of course.

Nate sees him looking over and grins at him, “looking good right?”

“Hmm,” Erik says. “Are you just planting corn? It’s better if you mix it up. Also: scarecrows.”

Nate rolls his eyes and reaches out for Erik, pulls him in with a hand on his arm. Erik goes, and then they’re stumbling across the doorstep, kissing as they go.

Nate’s mouth is hot on his, slick and urgent.

“You’re such an asshole,” he says against Erik’s lips.

“Yeah,” Erik agrees, nonsensically. “Can I suck your dick?”

Nate groans. “Shit. Yeah.”

It’s a wet, sloppy blowjob, Nate spread out on the bed. Then Erik fucks his thighs, touching Nate’s back and shoulders, gets a hand on his ass and his mouth on Nate’s neck.

After they’re laying together, hot and sweaty, Erik mostly on top of Nate until Nate shoves at him.

“Hot,” he mumbles then spreads out on his stomach, eyes almost closed as he peeks over at Erik.

For a moment Erik considers going home, then considers the effort of getting up, gathering his clothes and walking back. Too fucking much, he decides, and flails towards the bedside lamp, the only light they had bothered to turn on. The air around them still warm and Erik burrows into a pillow, lets Nate even breathing lull him to sleep.

 

The rooster wakes them the next morning, loud and insistent. Beside Erik, Nate groans and shifts and when Erik opens his eyes he’s sitting up, blinking sleepily around the room. He’s still naked, pale and broad in the soft, pink light of the morning. Nate looks at Erik, a wry quirk of his lips, then climbs out of his bed and wanders off, presumably in the direction of his bathroom.

Erik sits up and looks around, tries to find his clothes strewn all over the bedroom floor. He runs a hand through his hair, scrubs it over his face. He gets out of bed and breathes in, the mixture of stale sex and cool morning air. He’ll shower at home, he decides.

Nate is in the kitchen, brewing coffee apparently. He’s wearing a pair of boxers and a shirt now and he blinks sleepily at Erik as he stomps into the room and starts pulling on his boots.

“If you wait like five minutes you can have some coffee.”

“Uh,” Erik scrubs a hand through his hair. Nate is leaning against the kitchen counter, blond hair all over the place. Erik remembers running his fingers through it yesterday, and he looks at Nate, half-dressed and sleepy and big, worn shirt loose on him.

“I have to go feed the chickens,” he says.

“Me too,” Nate says and yawns. “Guess I’ll beat you to that today.”

He grins but it’s still sleepy and Erik feels a smile tugging at his mouth, but he rolls his eyes instead.

“Still doesn’t make you good farmer.”

“Fuck off,” Nate says cheerfully and turns to his coffee. Erik watches him for another moment, then clumps his way out of the door. He does stop by the chicken coop, peers at the chickens already scratching around in the grass. They seem healthy and plump, scrabbling around and pecking at the ground.

Sam is already feeding the chickens when Erik gets back home. He doesn’t look judgmental but he does look knowing and fucking wise beyond his years.

“I’m technically your boss,” Erik threatens but Sam just laughs at him.

 

Erik doesn’t see Nate for a while after that because it’s summer is a busy time and Erik is fucking busy running a farm. He has corn and blueberries and hot peppers to water and harvest, and animals to take care of and he’s thinking about buying another horse. He’s busy enough that when he wants to make some trout for dinner he doesn’t have time to catch it himself and he pins a request to the message board, hoping someone less busy will get it to him. He’s really been hankering for some trout.

He’s cleaning one of the cows, brushing down her coat and telling Bessie she’s the most beautiful girl (it’s a lie, he says that to all the cows), when Nate strolls up to the fence and leans on it.

“Hey Erik.”

For a moment Erik considers pretending he can’t hear him, mostly because it would be pretty funny to see Nate get mad but instead he gives Bessie a pat on her flank as Nate ducks through the fence and wanders over to him.

“Can I help you?”

“Nah,” Nate says. “Figured I could help you.”

“Really?” Erik raises an eyebrow. “You’re gonna help me.”

“Well,” Nate says. “I dunno. I do have this fish that I think you wanted?”

And he holds out a rainbow trout, a big beautiful one, so fresh it’s basically still dripping with water, like Nate pulled it out of the river and then came straight over here.

“You have time for this?” Erik says and Nate frowns at him

“What?”

“Well fuck,” Erik says. “I don’t have time to do shit and you’re out here sitting at the river.”

Nate stares at him, frown deepening.

“It’s just a trout,” he says. “It’s not like they’re hard to catch.”

“I feel like I shouldn’t take this,” Erik crosses his arms. “It’ll just encourage you to slack off.”

“Fine,” Nate says and starts to pull the trout back. “Don’t. I don’t care. I was just trying to do something nice for you.”

“Wait no,” Erik grabs Nate’s arm to stop him then takes the trout, turning it over in his hands consideringly. “This is too nice for you. I’m keeping it. You want to stay for dinner? I’m making trout soup.”

Nate covers his face with one of his hands, which definitely smell like fish, then sighs.

“Alright.”

“Sweet,” Erik weighs the fish in his hands. It’s hefty, definitely perfect for a good soup.

It’s a simple enough dish to make, tossing all the ingredients into the pot and waiting until it’s done. Nate pokes around Erik’s house while he cooks, picks books off his shelves and puts them back, looks at the Johnson family tree pinned up on one of the walls.

“You guys go way back huh?”

“Sixth generation Johnson farmer in front of you,” Erik says, as tastes the soup. It needs more salt.

“So you gonna keep the line going?” Nate wanders back over to him.

“Sure,” Erik laughs. “If I find someone who likes me enough to consider raising a kid with me I’ll do my duty.”

“You don’t think that’ll happen?”

“Who knows,” Erik shrugs. “No accounting for taste. C’mon the soup is done.”

They eat mostly in silence. The window is open, early evening heat pouring in through it and they can hear the sounds of the animals, soft moos and nickers, shifts and clomps and clucks. The sounds of the farm. Erik is used to it.

After dinner, it’s easy enough to reel Nate in, kiss him against the kitchen counter and then herd him to Erik’s bed. Erik doesn’t bother undressing him completely, just gets his pants out of the way and then jerks him off, slow and easy, keeping him pinned and kissing him.

Afterwards, Nate lays panting until he sees the clock on Erik’s bedside table.

“Shit, I have to get going.” He starts to scramble up, pulling up and fastening his jeans. Erik gapes at him, laying back on his own bed.

“What, you’re just going to leave me like this?” he asks.

“Sorry,” Nate says. “But also you were kind of an asshole about the trout so maybe you deserve it. Anyway, I feel like I should get bonus points since I’m going back to make sure the chickens are locked up safe. There’s been some weird stuff around.”

“Fine,” Erik sulks. “I’ll take care of it, and I won’t think about you at all.”

Nate laughs, kisses him one more time, and then clomps his way out the door, leaving Erik alone to take of business. Erik definitely does think about him.

 

Suddenly, summer turns into fall and the hot sunshine turns down. It starts raining more, wind blowing leaves across town. Erik plants pumpkins.

Fall also brings the town fair, which is actually Erik’s favorite festival. He’s spent the week before preparing the items he’s going to display in his display, keeping back the highest quality eggs and crops and making sure he can find a nice way to arrange them all.

By the time he’s arranged his display to his satisfaction, Nate has wandered over and is leaning against Erik’s display, grinning at him.

“Do not mess up my stuff,” Erik points at him. “That’s cheating, and I will catch you.”

“Sure,” Nate grins wider. He’s wearing a thick brown knit sweater and Duke is beside him, letting Nate idly run his fingers through his fur. It’s unbearably soft and Erik scowls at the two of them.

“Come on, let’s go win some tokens.”

Nate rocks it at the smashing stone, swinging the hammer in looping arcs. Erik watches his shoulders move under his sweater, not bothering to join in on the game. Nate has this one covered. He does go all in at the slingshot booth and wins a handful of tokens. Better than Nate at least, who does get lucky on the spinning wheel.

They get some food, corn on the cob dripping with butter. They chat with Tyson, distracting him while he’s trying to win at the sling-shot game until he gets mad and rushes off to find Gabe, red-faced.

“Oh hey, what’s that?” Nate says, pointing over to one of the tents set up slightly out of the way of the rest of the fair.

Erik makes a face. “That’s where the fortune teller sets up.”

“Oh really?”

“No,” Erik says. “I refuse. They’re a hack and fortune telling isn’t real.”

Nate laughs. “Don’t be such a little bitch.”

He starts walking towards the tent and Erik follows, scowling.

“I’m telling you, it’s a fucking waste of money. It’s all smoke and mirrors, there’s no way anyone can actually tell the future—"

“Hi,” Nate interrupts his tirade as he pushes into the tent. “My friend would like to have his fortune told.”

“Sure,” the shrouded figure behind the crystal ball says. “100g. Sit down.”

Nate pushes Erik forward and he goes, hissing, “I’m not paying.”

Nate slides over the money without evening blinking and it disappears into the fortune tellers wide sleeves. They then raise their hands over the crystal ball, which starts glowing eerily from the inside. Erik frowns at it. It’s all bullshit.

“Oh,” says the fortune teller. “Oh, I see.”

And then nothing else for a little bit, just starting at the crystal, moving their hands around.

“Uh,” Erik say.

“Sorry,” they say, “got caught up in this. Fascinating. Anyway, I can see several things in your future…you’re not going to win the best display this year, but next year is looking good…that boy is going to make you very happy if you let him…artichoke harvest is looking good this season…maybe don’t punch Duchene at the function…okay, that’s all I’ve got, thanks for your patronage!”

“What?” Erik says.

“That’s what 100g gets you,” the fortune teller says. “Could you vacate the tent? My next clients are about to arrive.”

For a moment Erik wants to stay seated and demand answers, then he remembers that fortune telling isn’t real and he didn’t want to be dragged into this in the first place. The chair makes a scraping sound as Erik pushes it back and Nate is chuckling behind him as they push their way out of the tent, almost running down Colin who’s trying to get into the tent.

“So, who’s the boy that’s going to make you very happy?” Nate grins as they wander back to the fair proper.

“I don’t fucking know,” Erik says. “I told you it was fake.”

“I dunno,” Nate says. “That bit about you not winning with your display seemed pretty solid.”

“Oh fuck off,” Erik says and shoves him. “Like some wanna be farmer from the city is gonna do better than me.”

Nate laughs and pushes back and it almost turns into a full-on shoving match, except Sakic calls for the displays to be judged and they go back over, gathering with the rest of the town the town to listen to the announcements. Nate stands next to Erik in the crowd, arm brushing against Erik’s and then it hits Erik that he hasn’t spent a moment apart from Nate today. He looks over at him, the fine profile of his nose and the small smile tugging at his lips as he looks up at the Mayor and has to swallow against something lodging itself in his throat.

Erik’s display doesn’t win but neither does Nate’s, first prize going to Mikko.

Nate shrugs and then grins at Erik as they both collect their items.

“Maybe we can join forces next year.”

 

Fall doesn’t only bring the town fair of course. It also brings wind and rain and sometimes both at the same time in storms that wake Erik with crashes of thunder, lightning striking bright outside of his window.

Beside him Nate groans into the pillow. “I’m not getting up yet.”

Erik lays still for a long moment, listening to the sounds outside, but he can’t hear anything except the drumming of the rain and the occasional boom of thunder and Nate breathing beside him. He’s tense but after a moment Nate rolls over and slings an arm over his waist.

“Fucking go back to sleep,” he mumbles. “We can check on everything in the morning.”

In the morning it’s still storming, torrents of rain pouring down and the sky is dark and grey, storm clouds piled high. Erik knows no one in town is going to leave their homes today, it’s the sort of day where everyone will stay home. No one is going to risk getting struck by lightning if they don’t absolutely have to do things.

Erik doesn’t have that luxury. He has a farm to run and even if there’s nothing to be done about the crops there are animals he needs to attend to. Sammy isn’t going to be showing up to pitch in today so it’s all on Erik.

Well. Erik and Nate, who’s sitting sleepily in his kitchen, spooning oatmeal into his mouth. Erik looks at him in a worn t-shirt and with terrible bedhead, looking glumly at his empty bowl, and he lets out a snort.

“What, still hungry?”

“I could eat more,” Nate says hopefully.

Erik rolls his eyes but takes his bowl and fills it again.

“Get to it, I need to go to the stables and check on everyone.”

“Yeah,” Nate says around full spoon, then swallows. “Actually I was thinking, Sammy is probably not gonna show up today right? So I’ll help you with your chores and then you can come with to mine and help me out. That way neither of us gets stuck out there in this, and we both get done faster.”

Erik considers, for a moment, then shrugs. “Sure, but I’ll be keeping an eye on you. Not sure you’ve gotten the hang of this farming thing yet.”

Now, it’s Nate’s turn to roll his eyes and Erik grins at him.

Afterwards they battle their way through the whipping rain and over to the barns. They’re both drenched in a matter of seconds and when they get inside Erik takes a moment to appreciate the way the wet shirt clings to Nate’s broad back, then Bessie is there, nudging him gently with her big head.

They work quietly. Nate doesn’t sing while he works the way Sam does, but he does move with quick, quiet concentration as he spreads foods, milks cows and goats and brushes out the coats of the little kits. The animals are easy around him and he’s firm with them, but gentle and well, it’s not like Erik really thought Nate was a bad farmer anymore but this proves it, Nate in his barn with his animals just hammers it home that this man has moved into the valley and made it his own, that he’s part of this life now and whatever he had in the city, he left that behind.

By the time it’s noon they’ve managed to feed the chickens and collect the eggs and muck out the horses. Erik makes them omelets for lunch, thick and fluffy, and then they make their way through the rain to the MacKinnon farm.

Nate’s animals are antsy, not used to being left by themselves until the afternoon but Nate soothes them too and between the two of them, they manage to take care of the chores quickly. Erik gets to see Chili and Beans, who are thriving, and then Nate feeds him chili for dinner. After he pins him down on the bed and blows him, and Erik falls asleep in bed with Nate again, the storm outside still thundering

 

Winter is the slow season. There are almost no crops to grow, and though the animals have to be taken care of, there’s more time left in the day. The snow falls thick on the ground early in the season and stays there, a thick white blanket that seems too muffle every sound. Erik uses the extra time to go ice fishing and to do more research on the new horse he wants to buy. He lets Nate keep him in bed in the morning on occasion, warm under the thick blankets and with their mouths on each other.

It’s a quiet time so Erik is surprised when someone starts pounding on his door early enough that he’s still in the middle of making himself breakfast.

“What?” he says when he wrenches the door open and Josty is standing in front of it, fist raised to knock again. He’s all bundled up, curls peeking out from under his hat and eyes big and brown and cheerful.

“I’m supposed to get you and Nate down to the lake for a hockey game,” he says and smiles. “You guys up?”

There’s a lot in that statement that Erik isn’t going to touch, starting and ending with the assumption that Nate is here with him. He’s just going to focus on the parts that are enjoyable to him, like apparently that the lake has frozen thick enough for the annual town hockey tournament to start.

“I’ll meet you there,” Erik says and starts to close the door.

“And Nate?” Josty asks. 

He shrugs. “Dunno. You’ll have to go to his and ask him.” 

“He’s not here?” Josty frowns. “Tyson Sr. said he’d be here.”

Again, Erik isn’t going to touch that. He shuts the door in Josty’s face instead and finishes his breakfast before digging out his skates and pulling on his winter clothes. If the ice is thick enough to skate on it’s going to be cold as fuck out there.

By the time he makes it down to the lake there are already several figures skating back and forth, setting up the goals and yelling at each other.

“You have to put the net up farther away!” Tyson is directing Kerf and JT through setting everything up to his satisfaction, skating around them and yelling directions, already slightly red in the face. Gabe is there too, already idly skating the puck around on his stick while others are doing the work. Mikko is still tying up his skates.

“Oh hey,” Tyson grins brightly at Erik when he gets on the ice. “Where are Josty and Nate?”

Erik shrugs. “Dunno. Josty’s still probably getting Nate.”

“Nate wasn’t with you?” Tyson frowns at him. “Why not?”

“I don’t know Tyson,” Erik rolls his eyes. “We don’t spend all our fucking time together.”

That much is true even if staying at each others has become more and more of a regular thing. If even Tyson is aware of it, then Erik is definitely in deeper than he thought but he’s also not going to think about that now.

Erik takes a couple of laps around the cleared ice. It’s bumpy and uneven under his feet, and he almost loses his footing once or twice. Playing on it is going to be awful, exactly as it should be for pond hockey in the winter. The cold air is biting Erik’s cheeks and he grins wide, getting a stick for himself and joining Gabe and the puck.

They pass it back and forth as a few more people show up, including Josty and Nate. The grin stretching Nate’s face is the widest Erik’s ever seen and he grins back at him as he juggles the puck on his stick.

“Hurry up, I’m gonna kick your ass!”

Nate laughs and joins them on the ice. He skates well, long, even strides that gather into explosive speed and when he stops in front of Erik he showers him in ice.

“Oh fuck you, you’re going down,” Erik says, delighted, then yells. “Nate and I are captains!”

“Uh the fuck you are—” Tyson starts.

“I choose Tyson for my team!” Nate yells and Tyson closes his mouth and skates over to his side. They high-five.

“Okay, I pick Gabe,” Erik says.

“Thanks,” Gabe says drily.

“Yeah I know, everyone wants to be on Nate’s team but I have to win somehow,” Erik says and Gabe rolls his eyes and bumps his shoulder into him.

They get their teams together and then the all-out chaos of the pond hockey game begins. There aren’t really any rules, except ‘don’t injure anyone’ and even if there were, there’d be no one to enforce them, so it quickly develops into a series of tactics that would never fly in an organized game. Nate still scores the first goal, deking around Sam and firing on Grubi, who they’d stuck in net.

He crows in delight when it goes in and opens his arms wide for Tyson to crash into him. His grin unfolds over his whole face, happy and open. It’s a good look on him, Erik decides, but not good enough that he’s not going to try his damnedest to win.

It looks good for them for a while, until Nate scores two in quick succession and Tyson declares he’s cold now. Erik tries to argue that this is clearly biased for team Nate but he’s overruled by the rest of his team, who are also cold.

“Congrats,” Erik says, skating up to Nate. “Guess you’re pretty okay at hockey.”

“Yeah?” Nate grins up at him, flushed and happy. “Wanna come over and help me celebrate my victory?”

“Sure,” Erik says before he can think about how much time they already spend together, how everyone apparently sees them as a unit. He knows that’s not what this is and well, Nate offered. And he did win the hockey game. A celebration is probably in order.

Nate smiles wider.  

 

Winter doesn’t only mean hockey and lazy hand jobs in front of a roaring fireplace but apparently also that Nate gets bored and restless cooped up in the farm house. Erik tells him to save his strength for spring and Nate tells Erik he’s gotten too used to working around the farm. They work some of the excess energy off in front of the fireplace but, well. Erik has shit of his own he needs to take care of, he can’t be around to curtail Nate all the time.

So what Nate decides to do in his boredom and restlessness is explore the abandoned mines north of town. The ones that go god knows how deep and are filled with all sorts of terrifying creatures. It’s a place almost everyone avoids unless they’re desperate for ore and even then they usually just post just post a note on the message board or stick to the upper levels. Not going down to the deepest levels, which is apparently what Nate had been doing.

Erik only finds out because Tyson calls him from Dr. Gardner’s office to let him now Nate had collapsed from exhaustion and was being treated.

“He’s fine,” Tyson says insistently. “He’s just sleeping it off. Lauren says there’s nothing wrong with him.”

Erik stares at the phone like he can’t believe what’s happening. There’s a noise like static in his ears, a bloodless rushing and he can hear Tyson’s worried voice calling his name.

“Yeah,” he forces himself to say. “I’ll be right there.”

“You don’t—” but Erik doesn’t hear the rest, slams down the phone and hurries out into the snow. It’s winter so it’s dark already, gets dark way to early and Erik doesn’t know why he’s thinking about that but he can’t help but be furious about it. It’s fucking afternoon and the sky almost pitch black and the lanterns are on because no one would be able to find their fucking way otherwise and Erik is out here in the snow, cold and angry and Nate—Nate fucking collapsed and he can’t—

Lauren looks up at him from her desk when he shoves the door to her office open and she somehow manages to be both chastising and pitying.

“How’s he doing?” Erik asks.

“He’s fine,” she says. “Sleeping. He’ll probably sleep for a while longer, he was really out of it. Not hurt or anything just…exhausted. You can wait until he wakes up and then take him home if you want.”

Erik nods, stiffly, then goes through the door to the back room where Nate is laying on the bed, blanket tucked around him. Erik doesn’t know if it’s the white of the doctor’s office, the walls, the sheets, but he looks pale, stretched out and drained. Tyson is there, sitting in the one waiting chair and he gets up when Erik walks in. They hug briefly, then Erik steps up beside Nate.

“He’ll be fine,” Tyson says. He’s hovering at Erik’s elbow. “That’s what Lauren said.”

“Right,” Erik says. There’s a lot swirling in him right now, and he reaches out and touches Nate face, just lightly on his cheek. Nate’s skin is cool and smooth and his face doesn’t move and Erik takes his hand back, runs it through his hair. “You should go home, I’ll stay until he wakes up.”

Tyson bites his lip and looks at him, torn, then nods. He squeezes Erik’s arm once, then slips out of the room.

“Let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do.” Erik settles down into the visitor’s chair. It’s uncomfortable, or maybe he’s uncomfortable, the stiff back of the chair hard as he slouches against it, eyes trained on Nate. The rushing in his ears has faded but he still feels just outside his body. It’s stupid. Nate is fine, he’s right there, quiet and too still but fine and Erik can stay here and watch him until he wakes up and—

It’s going to be okay.

He keeps sitting in the chair. Lauren comes in to check on Nate once, apparently satisfied with what she finds. She pats Erik’s arm, too, then leaves again.

Erik doesn’t know how long he sits there, watching Nate sleep. It feels like forever, time stretched out and sticky with panic, the tightness of his body, but he doesn’t think it’s actually that long until Nate twitches and then opens his eyes, blinking sleepily.

“Where am I?” his voice is rough but he sounds basically like every other time Erik has heard him just after he’s woken up. He leans forward in his chair, doesn’t reach out to touch him.

“You collapsed in the mines,” he pauses. “Idiot. You’re at Dr. Gardner’s because she takes care of fools who don’t look after themselves.”

“Oh,” Nate blinks, then yawns. “Shit. That’s never happened to me before.”

“I fucking hope not,” Erik growls. “It’s a fucking stupid thing to do.”

“He’s up?” Lauren breezes into the room, apparently summoned by the sounds of their voices. “Good. How do you feel?”

“Fine,” Nate says and yawns again. “Tired mostly.”

“Yes, that’d be the exhaustion,” she says then looks at Erik. “Get him home and feed him and then put him back to bed.”

“I’m fine,” Nate says, but Lauren just snorts and fixates Erik until he nods and gets up to help Nate out of bed.

Nate does seem fine on the way home, walking just a little slower than he usually would. Erik stays closer to him than he maybe normally would, but Nate doesn’t stumble or anything, just grins at him when he notices what Erik is doing. He gets an eyeroll in return and then Erik makes him sit at the kitchen table while he gets everything together to make scrambled eggs. He watches Nate eat and he can feel his heart in his chest, every slow thud of it against his ribcage but there’s no static in his head, just a slow, sticky warmth that he tries to keep off his face. He bullies Nate into bed once he’s eaten, lets himself be pulled along despite the fact that it’s not even that late yet and when the light is off and Nate is snoring softly beside him, Erik lets himself look at him, silver in the moonlight.

This is too much, he knows, but he can’t help the way it all sits in his chest.

 

By the time winter turns into spring Erik has found a new horse he wants to buy. He’s spent all winter making his selection, so when the snow melts Erik drives off and brings him back to the farm. He’s beautiful, big and strong, and promises to be fast and Erik is more than a little enamored of him. He spends enough time taking care of him that he’d be worried the other horses were getting jealous, if they seemed like they gave a shit about him at all.

Tyson visits him as Erik is brushing the horse down again, hands running over the glossy brown of his coat. Tyson settles himself on top of the paddock fence, a muffin in his hand, keeping a wary eye on the horse as if he’s going to steal it from him.

“I don’t know why you love horses so much,” he says.

“That’s because you have no taste,” Erik says. “It’s sad but true.”

Tyson hums, then shrugs, taking a bite of his muffin.

“What’s his name?” he asks, chewing loudly.

“Uh,” Erik says and pauses. “Macwinnon.”

Tyson laughs so hard he falls off the fence and continues laughing as he lays on his back in the tall grass.

“You named your horse after him? Romantic.”

“Shut up,” Erik scowls. “This horse is ugly and slow and I only bought him out of pity.”

“Are you sure?” Tyson giggles, face still red. “Are you sure he’s not big and fast and strong and the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”

Erik is too dignified to answer that and feeds Macwinnon a handful of oats instead. Eventually Tyson stops laughing and climbs up out of the grass to lean against the fence. He’s still holding his muffing, somehow unharmed in the fall, and he takes a bite as he smirks in Erik’s face.

“Glad you’ve found your forever boy,” he says.

“Oh my god shut the fuck up,” Erik says. “That’s not what this is.”

“Sure,” Tyson says and shoves the rest of his muffin in his mouth, chewing loudly. Erik watches in horror and fascination until Tyson swallows and looks at the horse in contemplation. He reaches out and strokes a hand over his broad, powerful neck.

“Macwinnon though?”

Tyson fully deserves the headlock he gets put into even if he’s laughing too hard to actually fight Erik off.

 

Spring is soft, soft sunshine on the skin and soft grass underneath Erik‘s fingers and a soft wind tugging on his clothes. It’s nice to lay down by the river during his lunch break, when the work is paused and the sun is bright and almost hot overhead.

Nate sits down next to him. He looks big, and good from Erik‘s perspective down on the grass and he grins when Erik cracks open an eye to look at him.

“Nothing to do?” Erik asks.

Nate laughs. “You’re here too.”

Erik shrugs. “I’m efficient.”

“Sure.”

They don’t say anything for a while, quietly breathing next to each other then Nate clears his throat and Erik opens his eyes.

“So your town has some fucking weird ass traditions.”

Erik hums and doesn’t disagree. He’s never been anywhere else but it’s something that has been expressed by more than one person who was just passing through.

“I was buying seeds today,” Nate continues, “and Mikko would not let me leave until I bought this.”

Erik sits up. Nate is holding a small bouquet, red and yellow flowers crowded around each other, and he’s holding it out towards Erik.

“What?” Erik says.

“Mikko said it’s tradition to give this to someone if you’re serious about them,” Nate says. He looks determined, chin jutting out and mouth set, eyes big and blue and hopeful and Erik doesn’t know what do with all of this.

“You want to give this to _me_?” Erik says. He cannot believe this is happening. “Because what, we fuck sometimes?”

A muscle in Nate’s jaw twitches. Erik can see it from here.

“You know it’s more than that.”

“Is it?” From the look on Nate’s face Erik should probably stop talking but he can’t stop staring at the flowers that Nate is still holding out. Nate cannot possibly be serious about this.

“God you’re such an asshole,” Nate says and he’s furious now, has that sharp fold between his eyebrows and his jaw is clenched. “I don’t know why I fucking like you, you dick.”

And then he hurls the flowers at Erik. They almost hit him in the face, but he fumbles and catches them, almost crushing them in his hand. Nate has gotten up and is storming up off, long, lean strides and furious set of his shoulders. Erik watches him go. He should go after him, apologize or something but his hands are still curled loosely around the flowers and Erik would probably just make it worse.

 

He finishes the rest of the work distractedly and then goes to the saloon even though it’s not Friday. Weekdays mean fewer people and it’s less loud and rowdy, mostly people chatting and getting dinner. Erik takes his usual spot at the end of the bar and checks the crowd. Nate’s not here.

Eventually Tyson comes over carrying a beer. He’s wearing an expression Erik knows well. They’re his you-fucked-up eyebrows and Erik makes a face as he takes his beer.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he says.

“Oh, I will,” Tyson says. “Later, when I’ve fed everyone.”

Erik grunts and takes his beer, drinks deeply and then slows down. He’s not here to drink his sorrows away. If he’s honest, he’s here to be around Tyson.

He gets a second beer before he gets Tyson and he’s about halfway done with it when Tyson slides into the seat next to him with a beer of his own. He’s still giving Erik you-fucked-up eyebrows.

“I guess you talked to Nate,” Erik says.

“Duh,” Tyson looks incredibly unimpressed. “You know we’re tight.”

Erik groans. “I don’t know why I like either of you.”

Tyson punches him in the shoulder. It kind of hurts.

“This is exactly your problem,” he hisses. “You always fucking do this.”

“Ow,” Erik says. “Also: fuck you.”

“No.” Tyson studies him. “Why don’t you want to be Nate’s boyfriend? I know you’re in love with him.”

Erik squawks and almost spills his beer. Tyson gives him the unimpressed look again.

“I know being an asshole so you can pretend to not care is your thing,” he says, “and for the most part that’s fine because we, like me and Sam and Gabe and everyone, we know that you’re just repressed or whatever but accepting the flowers from Nate really isn’t that much to ask.”

“It’s not the flowers,” Erik says. “It’s like…does he know what that means?”

“Uh yeah,” Tyson says. “Mikko explained. Besides you two have been at it for almost year, I don’t think you’re moving fast or anything.”

“Okay, but…” Erik swallows. “Me?”

Tyson looks at him, then sighs and pulls him a little. It’s awkward because he’s so much shorter than Erik but Erik lets him, rests his head on Tyson’s shoulder for a moment.

“Nate really likes you,” Tyson says firmly. “Like, probably in love with you-likes you. He really likes the Valley and he really likes farming so whatever is going on in that weird brain of yours is probably not going to happen.”

He gives Erik a little shake as he lets him go and Erik takes a deep breath and another gulp from his beer.

“Gross,” he says. “Emotions.”

“Yeah well,” Tyson pulls a face at him. “You’re gonna have to show some of those if you want him to forgive you. So go talk to him. Not now though, showing up at his house after an evening at the saloon is a bad look.”

“I’m not even drunk,” Erik protests. Not that he wants to go and find Nate right now anyway.

“Still,” Tyson says. “Tomorrow. And you better or I will kick your ass. It’s a good thing you can have with Nate and you’re not going to just let it slip away.”

He’s looking a little intense around the eyebrows again and his gaze is pinning Erik to his seat so Erik nods.

“Tomorrow,” he says and Tyson smiles at him, one of the bright ones that opens his whole face up and for a moment Erik feels very lucky for his friends.

 

Tomorrow comes and Erik doesn’t know what he can say to Nate that will make up for being an asshole. Or he does, it’s probably ‘hey, sorry I was an asshole about the flowers, I actually want them and the commitment they symbolize even though I’m terrified’ but he doesn’t think he can get his mouth to open and form those words so he’s still on the farm, sitting in the tall grass on the paddock, leaning against one of the fence posts. Sam spots him and wanders over.

“Why are you here?”

“There could still be work that needs doing,” Erik says. “Something that I haven’t thought of yet.”

Sam snorts and settles on the fence, beside and above Erik.

“Aren’t you supposed to be apologizing to Nate?” he asks.

“Rude,” Erik says. “Also: does everyone know my business?”

“Just your friends,” Sam says. “Tyson told me to make sure you don’t try to hide on the farm all day.”

“Wow,” Erik says. “I’m never telling that bitch anything again.”

Sam hums and doesn’t say anything else, just digs the toe of his shoe against the dirt, working it into the earth.

“I don’t know what to say,” Erik admits, finally. The sigh Sam makes sounds very put upon.

“You say ‘Sorry I’m an asshole, Nate’,” he says. “You say ‘I love you and it won’t happen again.’”

“Just that?” Erik is skeptical.

“If you mean it and if you don’t do it again, it’ll be enough.”

Erik twists so he can look at Sam and finds him looking down at him, wide brown eyes earnest and full of trust. He’s really too young to be giving Erik this kind of sage advice.

Sam is helping out around the Johnson farm now but that’s not going to last. He’s not from the valley and he’s not going to stay here, meant for bigger and better things. Erik is okay with it. Hell, he’s happy for him.

“You know I care about you a lot, right Sammy G?” Erik asks and then pauses, unsure how to continue. Saying something along the lines of ‘you’re like a brother to me’ doesn’t seem right considering he’s definitely sucked his dick before.

Luckily Sam puts him out of his misery, rolling his eyes and leaning over to smack a kiss onto Erik’s forehead.

“Go get your boy EJ,” he says.

 

Nate isn’t around when Erik gets to MacKinnon Farm and though the door of the house is unlocked it feel presumptuous to go inside so Erik sits down on the porch, bouquet of red and yellow flowers deposited beside him. He leans on one of the posts and looks out over the farm. He tries to remember the way it‘d looked that evening he’d first met Nate, over a year ago now.

The evening air is similar but the view is different, rows and rows of neatly planted and watered crops. Erik can hear the sound of the chickens and the cows and sheep, all the familiar sounds of a farm alive and he remembers how afraid he’d been that this piece of the valley would be lost, a irreplaceable bit of it’s soul gone. Nate hadn’t done that though, Nate had kept this place alive. More than that Nate had made this place his own, planted his own deep roots into the soil and it would take a lot of work to rip them up again, to move him somewhere else and if Erik knew one thing about Nate it was that he was incredibly stubborn, unmoveable once he’d been planted.

Erik looks at the rows of crops again and he smiles at the scarecrows, evenly spaced between the fields.

He spots Nate coming up between the rows of corn, Duke and Cox with him. Nate doesn’t spot him right away, comes close to the house before he stops, looking at Erik with narrowed eyes.

“Oh,” he says. “You’re here.”

“Yeah,” Erik says and then for a moment they just look at each other. Nate’s face is still shuttered, unmoving as his eyes trawl over Erik’s face. He crosses his arms in front of his chest.

Erik has had a while to think about what he wants to say and he’s got the gist of it but now that he’s across from Nate, looking into Nate’s beautiful, stern face it won’t come. He sees Nate’s mouth, hard, and the breath he lets out through his nose and he opens his mouth and—

“Sorry.” He says. “For being an asshole.”

Nate’s face doesn’t change, there’s just a ripple and he presses his lips together.

“Is that all?”

“Uh,” Erik says. “Yes?”

“Cool. You can leave now.”

Erik stares at him and Nate looks back, impassive. He’s still mad, mad enough that maybe Erik should leave, come back when he’s had time to cool off but that’s not Erik’s style. So instead he picks up the bouquet laying next to him and holds it out to Nate.

“I got these for you.”

Nate’s eyebrows go up but his mouth softens, just slightly, like he knows what Erik is going for and doesn’t want to be touched by it but he can’t help it. At least that’s what Erik chooses to believe. It’s encouraging.

“Mikko yelled at me when I bought them.”

“Oh,” Nate considers that piece of information. “Good.”

“Yeah,” Erik says. “I deserved it.”

That does make Nate’s mouth twitch into a smile, though he schools it back into a neutral expression real quick. He doesn’t move to take the flowers though, which means that Erik is going to have to do more. Show feelings. He takes a breath and squares his shoulders, keeps the flowers out towards Nate.

“I’m sorry I was an asshole about the flowers.” Erik says. “If this— if this is what you want, to be with me, then that’s what I want to. You— you’re special, and you mean a lot to me, and I’m not good with emotions.”

“No shit,” Nate says but he’s uncrossed his arms, and the smile is clawing its way back onto his face. “You’re a dick about it.”

“Yeah,” Erik tells him. “Sorry. Won’t happen again.”

“I doubt that,” Nate says but he reaches out and takes the flowers gently into his hand, then steps up so that he’s almost touching Erik, tilting his head up to look at him. Erik swallows and his hand comes up, thumb brushing over Nate’s cheek, cradling his face and then he leans down and kisses him. Nate kisses back and it’s gentle, gentle, mouths moving soft and when Erik pulls back he leans his forehead against Nate’s. His eyes are very blue up close.

“You have scarecrows,” Erik says, brushing against Nate’s mouth.

“Yeah,” Nate kisses him again. “Some asshole wandered in here and told me I’d need them. I didn’t want to believe him but it turned out he was right about that.”

Erik laughs, bright and loud and Nate is solid under his hands, muscular back and shoulders and the heavy weight of him as he leans into Erik. They keep kissing on the porch, darkness falling around them until Nate nudges Erik back into the house and from there into his bed.

Erik stays the night and the next morning he finds Nate in the kitchen, making breakfast, and the flowers in a glass on the window sill. The reds and yellows are bright in the sunlight, warm and cheery. Erik stares at them, then walks up to Nate and leans on him as he waits for the toast to pop up and the coffee to finish. Nate is broad and strong and lets Erik press his mouth to his neck, sighs and lets his head drop forward.

“I love you,” Erik says and when Nate turns around to face him, he’s smiling, ear to ear and Erik kisses him before he can say anything, knows what the answer would be anyway. It’s warm in the kitchen, and it’s warm in Erik’s chest, filling him, strong and steady. He’s where he’s supposed to be.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Blue Sky in His Eye](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21045221) by [Annapods](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annapods/pseuds/Annapods)




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